Falling In
by BongoDumbs
Summary: Trapped beneath the surface of Yamatai, Sam finds herself fighting her feelings for Lara-who's fighting for her life.
1. Chapter 1: Blink

_Chapter One: Blink_

I didn't want to open my eyes.

Even now, I could tell it was dark-reddish-blackness shone through my eyelids. My weight pressed firmly into the wet sand; I let my mind wander to the rapid and uneven expansion and contraction of my rib cage as I drew ragged breath.

Something about the sheer _space_ of the room seemed apparent as well: echoes of falling water created a deeply resonant sound, each individual drop showering sparks of reverb against the cavern walls. They seemed to tear brutally at the fabric of the moment.

Tear brutally at my focus.

At my quiet.

"Lara?" I breathed, my lips quivering with the cold. She needed to respond-I couldn't open my eyes knowing I was here alone. It would be better to remain in darkness.

"Lara!?" My voice remained little more that a spurt of air passing my lips in the shape of her name.

I hated my fear and found my breath following the pattern of sobs. It'd be disastrous to fall into hysterics at a time like this and I _knew _that-I just couldn't possess myself to face whatever lay beyond the confines of my current sight. Opening my eyes would do nothing more than expand my perceived size of this hell.

"Lara Croft, do you copy?"

My jibe was met with none more than silence and a pattering of droplets across my face. A bit of water caught in my eyelash and I blinked it away-unwillingly exposing myself to the milky darkness that met its zenith many feet above my head. Some unseen light source sent slanted sheafs of sunlight through the oddly pleasant gloom, sharp and linear in their path. Myriads of tiny dust motes skated about the beams, visible only there. I sneezed.

I sat up with a groan. My entire body felt tender and bruised from the fall, but aside from a gash across my left palm I found myself unharmed. I looked at the blood, for a moment. As I held up my hand it oozed to the heel of my hand and the base of my wrist, and when I touched it, it was as if I couldn't feel. The skin peeled back effortlessly, jagged, whitening slightly, exposing some bloodied layer of pink beneath, and transfixed me until I found myself sane enough to press it to my pants. The blood was bright on the light denim.

My confidence now fostered, I stood, noting a large body of darkness at the far end of the room, which I innately decided to avoid.

"Lara? Tell me you're in here, baby." I said. Weakness in my legs prompted me to stay low to the ground, crouching slightly. To my right lay a jagged assortment of rubble. A protruding piece of white caught the sparse light and identified itself as bone-I didn't dare delve further into the pile's contents with my eyes, for fear of deterrence.

_I didn't want to be scared._

Further down the wall, an opening was shrouded in darkness, surrounded by more rubble. A bit of water trickled through; when I looked within the rough hole, I could see scarcely more than the glint of wetness on various pieces of scrap metal and rock.

_Damnit._

That seemed to be where we came in from. Lara was with me, I hadn't fallen alone...Various scenarios drove me to the brink of panic-I fought it tooth and nail. A painful knot was brought to my throat where I stored my sobs.

I continued to scan the rubble, extending into sovereign darkness near the wall before me. I needed to proceed. She _had_ to be in here. Stepping gingerly onto a sturdy looking two by four, I made my way across it, squinting into the darkness. My sight didn't do me well-but as my eyes adjusted further to the gloom, the jagged outlines of various breeds of debris began to clarify foreground and background. And then-

"Lara!" I scrambled over a precariously balanced sheet of metal, falling once, standing, finding myself at her side. Her back, facing me, rose and fell with breath. A relief. I squatted down next to her, unsteady, and shook her gently. Blood from my palm stained her torn shirt. My heart was beating in my throat. Silence came and passed-I finally found the courage to step carefully over Lara and inspect her front.

Her face was oddly peaceful despite the blood. The curve of her brow and the weightlessness of her eyelids suggested sleep; the ease in which soft breath passed through her slightly parted lips seemed...removed. I needed to move her before she grew too pale.

"Come on Lara, we're standing…" I muttered mostly to keep myself focused, slipping my arm under hers and pulling up sharply at her weight. I let out a steadying breath-balanced precariously under her weight.

"And we're walking…" I gulped, took a step, and cried out as something gave way beneath my feet. Debris shifted-I fell, hard, and found myself some feet before where I'd been previously standing. Something broken jabbed into my leg and I hissed a curse through grit teeth. My eyes remained tightly shut for a moment after that as pain sent throbbing pulsations of blood through my consciousness. Sitting up, I realized that the actual puncture was deceivingly small, spreading more blood over my light-washed pants. Lara was on her stomach a few feet in front of me, half on the sand of the cave floor.

"Shit, shit, _shit…" _I stood, teetered, and made my way to where she lay, hair riding silently on the thin layer of water over the sand-I feared I'd hurt her more. Becoming aware of the incessant dripping again, I cursed it with every fiber of my being. I knew I needed to move her somewhere dry-but the blood needed to stop first. I took a shaky breath.

"Alright Lara, I'm gonna flip you. Just...stay with me, okay?" With as much care as possible, I nudged her by her shoulder, flipping onto her back, positioning her primarily on the sand. Our breath filled the blaring silence about us.

I put myself where I needed to be to start fixing this: and that was in a state of left-brain analytics. The fall had made short work of Lara's blue tank top, and hadn't spared the white one beneath. A wound across her left side spread blood across the totaled fabric, clouding the water on the ground with twisting, warping, streaks of red. Even through the obscuring layer of tank and blood, I could see a number of splinters embedded in her side, and cringed visibly at the thought. I knew I couldn't let myself panic. Not yet.

Lara lay without consciousness on the sand. Her face had become a bit taut, eyelids fluttering-like she was dreaming something bad. Her hair was plastered to her skin and I looked upon her almost guiltily, eyes finding the concave of her collar bones, the cords tighten in her neck as she swallowed. I didn't dare let my sight pass out of the range of her jaw and clavicles, half fearful of what lay there, half fearful that I would look upon her in such a way that was considered abnormal for a woman to look upon another woman.

Lara was beautiful.

I'd removed the shreds of her shirt to help spare her from the cold-It'd been useless, anyway-and used some thin cord I'd found near the debris to tie my folded jacket to her abdomen. She was a sorry sight: bruises forming across her arms as the slanted light grew dim, shadows accentuating the hollows of her face, making her look tired and old. Her superficial weakness left me somewhat disheartened.

My eyes scanned her body. I convinced myself I was checking for further injury-but my gaze got caught in the cyclic undulation of her torso, the convex of her breasts, the tiny movement of her lower lip as she blew air from her lungs. I looked away and blushed, ashamed of myself for looking at a friend in such a way. But I couldn't ignore the shiver in my spine. It felt as if a bird was trapped within my core, fluttering madly to escape-without hope of it. Turning my gaze past her, I willed myself not to look closer.

It was nearly night and I was freezing. One look at Lara's discolored fingertips told me she was colder-we were both soaking wet in chilly water. I lay down next to her left side without the courage to face in her direction, scooted closer, and drew my knees to my chest. It took some minutes for me to relax enough to let my head fall against the sand, into the water-but by that time, the cold had prompted me to flip my position so that I was facing her with my face in the nape of her neck and my torso at her side. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to think.

"Sam?" My eyes fluttered open at Lara's whispery voice. I froze, breathing stopped, eyes wide-and watched her lips quiver with voice; with cold.


	2. Chapter 2: Sparks

_Chapter Two: Sparks_

"Sam?" My eyes fluttered open at Lara's whispery voice. I froze, breathing stopped, eyes wide-and watched her lips quiver with voice; with cold. It took me a moment to acknowledge our closeness. I remained rigid-sitting up.

"Hey, Lara." I smiled, too fearful of the gloom to let the mood drop any further. "How're you feeling?"

"Terrible." She breathed. Her eyes opened briefly: a flicker of dark irises drinking in the room. "Sam, are you alright?"

Again, I couldn't force myself to look past her jawline. Her worry for me was unwarranted, successfully multiplying my guilt. I watched her eyes slip closed, a sigh escaping her lips. I still felt inclined to hide myself-Something besides hunger was gnawing at my senses.

"I'm just cold." I said and laughed humorlessly. It was more of an irked spurt of air hissing between my slightly parted lips. Clutching my knee to my chest, I was once again reminded of how my damp clothing stuck to my skin, my hair to my face. Scratching the back of my head, I could feel many grains of sand against my scalp. A shiver of internal itchiness ran through me.

Lara's lips parted for speech, moving quickly, without sound. Getting to my knees, I leaned down into her, bits of my dark hair grazing her exposed chest. Her warmth was apparent-again, in closeness, present-her tiny breaths hissed against my ear.

"My flint, Sam-left pocket…" I pulled my head away from her. Lara's eyes were open-bright in the dark. I scooted down alongside Lara, noting with more detail the amount and severity of her wounds. The fact that she'd been through so much, likely on my behalf, was one I despised. I shook the thought from my head.

Lara's pants were a mess of dirt, blood, and khaki tied over with the occasional bloodied rag or bandage. I slipped my hand into her pocket, making sure, somewhat irrationally, to do so gently. One wound on her opposite leg seemed particularly severe: a sizeable burn on her upper thigh. I cringed at the many thoughts of its origin, and was inundated with an increasingly sinking feeling.

"Is this it?" I held up a small, oddly tapered, gray stick for her to see. With no negative answer, I let my fist close grimly around the thing.

It was now our life source.

The task of finding dry wood was by no means an easy one. I was able to find some thin pieces of plywood from the top of the pile that were only a bit damp, and a small, bent bit of scrap metal to strike the flint-but nothing more promising. With the materials under my arm, I made my way back to Lara-nearly making the mistake of setting it on the wet ground. I cursed under my breath and retreated back to the pile, scanning over it.

Something odd glinted in the half light. Gingerly setting down my precious wood, I stepped into the rubble and felt it shift beneath me. With only one foot on the ground, I balanced awkwardly, waiting a moment before taking a few more hasty steps to get to it. It was a blade: oddly hooked, it reminded me of a tiny scythe. My hands closed around a handle that seemed crooked, and I yanked the thing free. The interior crook of the blade was serrated, with an odd extension coming off the back of it. I couldn't fathom what such a weirdly shaped blade could be used for, but It seemed highly specialized. No matter-any blade would be of use.

Realizing I could use this as a striker, I tossed away the previous piece of metal, selecting a larger, broader one to use for the fire. I stacked it on top of some two by fours, setting the plywood in what seemed to me a good position for a fire. Looking at it pensively for a moment, I brought the flint to the blade, striking it.

...nothing.

I tried again, cursed, and a third time, as hard as I could. A shower of bright sparks were born from the blade, the scene briefly lit up. I saw Laura's eyes turn to the source of light. I smiled at her, overcome with a new sense of capability.

We'd be okay.

I set the flint at the surface of the plywood and tightened my grip.

Upon striking the blade hard across it, another myriad of sparks were freed to seek death at the wet ground, and a small wisp of smoke spread the tang of struck matches over the immediate area. I tried again with the same result-all the children of fire without the flame: smoke, light, sparks, heat.

_Of course _the wood was too thick to light.

"God fucking _damnit!_" I yelled in frustration. It took all of my restraint to stop myself from kicking the failed fire across the room. I threw the odd blade, which got stuck in the sand somewhere ahead of me.

The silence was swathed in dripping water. It was all I could hear. The action of throwing had re-opened the wound on my palm, which now ran dark with half dried blood. I shut my eyes tight in the attempt of relieving tension built up about my lashes and waterline, inhaling deeply. The movement left involuntary wetness at the corners of my eyes.

"Sam." I turned to Lara, her eyes were on me again. I could barely see her in the lack of light, but the slight highlight on the contour of her cheek was enough to tell me she had turned her head in my direction.

"Sam, do you have anything with you?" She repeated. I perked up, feeling my pockets for anything. I slipped a small, cylindrical object from my back pocket.

"Lip-balm." I replied dismally. "Matthias took everything else I had before he tried to fucking _burn_ me." I scoffed.

"See if the label says anything about petroleum." Lara suggested meekly. The pain in her face was undeniable, and I found myself once again looking away.

I turned my eyes to the label and turned the small thing within my hands, aware of the dull throbbing in my palm. In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to see-but I was able to convince myself the word was there.

"Lara Croft, you are a_ genius._" I said to her with half feigned excitement, looking around for something to apply the product to. The front of my shirt wasn't as soaked as the rest; stupidly, I tried to rip it with my hands, but ended up only stretching the fabric slightly.

Standing, I began to make my way through the blue darkness toward the glint of the blade. I cursed myself for being so careless and impulsive as I bent down to grab the handle, pulling it easily from the sand. It hadn't been a hard throw.

I knelt beside Lara, half facing her, half facing the awkward configuration of plywood, a strip of my shirt in my hand. Applying the lip-balm to it I nestled it in between the scraps of wood. The fabric lit after a few strikes of the flint.

Golden light was cast on Lara's face. It was a fickle brand of light-dithering in disposition-playing the curves of her upper body, filling the dips in her figure with blue shadows that writhed with her breath. It made her skin look brassy, as if she were some old statue; an insentient relic.

I fancied the thought of such permanence.

I wouldn't make it alone.

We shared what seemed a comfortable silence for a moment. I was wound tightly, however externally placid, with fleeting thoughts of the future. Those notions became eclipsed by half unwelcome thoughts of Lara.

Why, in the recent past, had I been so comfortable around her, so inclined toward physical contact-when now I shied away as if she were some forbidden fruit? The simple thought of holding hands or brushing arms became taboo, taking on a different connotation. One that scared me more than it should have. Of course I longed for the comfort of touch, especially at a time like this-but I feared it too much to pursue it.

_Why did I fear something so trivial?_

Because it wasn't trivial. I knew that-but persisted in denying. The human power turn a self-blinded eye to fact was fascinating-and I would've saved myself a lot of trouble if I'd listened to my conscience defining what I felt.

I didn't name the feeling.

Naming it would make it _real._

"Sam?" Lara's voice broke my thought.

"Yeah Lara?" I turned my eyes to her and tried too hard to make myself look indifferent, only to find her face close to sleep.

"Mathias-he didn't...do anything to you, did he?"

"No." I lied simply, knowing full well what she meant. I pulled my knees to my chest.

"Good. I don't need another reason to kill that bastard." Lara said weakly. She let out a breathy laugh that spiraled into coughing, rousing the young fire. My eyes went wide with sympathy; I set my hands on her shoulders to steady her, middle fingers brushing her collar bone. The delicate sensation made me shiver.

"Lara-I'm gonna take a look at your side, alright?" I said, beginning to work at the cord holding my jacket in place against her, "Tell me if it hurts." Kicking myself, I realized only after the fact how _stupid _that sounded.

Lara flinched as I removed the cloth; I looked over the area with distaste. She seemed to sense my worry, my unease-and responded appropriately. She knew she had no justification in assuring that the best possible outcome would be the _actual_ outcome. But I wouldn't have minded hearing it-especially from someone other than myself. _Especially from Lara._

"Sam?" Her eyes flickered over my hands for a moment-I let the jacket drop into my grasp and set it behind me, mindful of the blood. Lara's breathing hitched subtly and I knew she was too kind to show me any more of her fear. Another strip of my shirt was used to clear away some of the blood. I pressed the area gingerly, prompting Lara to wince; vent air through her teeth.

"You okay?" I asked in response, keeping my eyes set just past my work. The wound was smaller and shallower than I'd thought-oozing dark blood into the water. My hands were shaking. I closed my pointer and thumb around a large splinter, reluctant to tighten my grasp. I closed my eyes.

Yanked.

Lara cried out slightly as I flung the piece of wood from my grasp-I wouldn't hold it.

"Sam, I-"

"Shh-It's alright. It will be over soon. I promise, Okay?"

"Sam-" Another splinter gone. Lara's reaction was less pronounced.

"Lara, I gotta do this-" I moved my hand near hers to offer useless solace. She flicked her wrist dismissively and set her hand back down in the water. Ripples-five rings, one for each fingertip-spread across the surface, rims glowing with firelight as they crossed and distorted. That single movement hurt more than the gash on my palm. Than the fall.

"We're not leaving this island, Sam. We can't; we're not allowed." My hands stopped moving.

"...What?" I asked, understanding her perfectly. Her eyes were hard on me.

I didn't have to look to know.

_A brief note: Hello, fellow law-abiding citizens of the interwebs-I'd like to thank you for choosing to read this particular hunk of binary out of the thousands of other quality pieces on this site, and I hope you're enjoying it at least a little. That being said, this is my first work on this site, so I'd really appreciate some feedback-just to see if I'm doing this right. Criticism welcome with open arms; suggestions and ideas welcomed with- *eyes flash* -possible compensation (bragging rights). Again, thank you so much for reading. It means the world to me._


	3. Chapter 3: Right

_Chapter Three: Right_

I was beginning to believe Lara.

I couldn't tell if she was crazy, or if I was crazy-The darkness and the hunger pried all sense from me. I was slipping.

_Fading into black. _

Thoughts of Mathias came frequently, passing in time, but always resurfacing-reflecting and refracting off of the walls, taking me back to the temple; the city. He'd lashed me to that pole and left me to the guard of the Russian.

I'd seen Lara in the shadows.

I'd wanted to call to her, to call to her for safety and solace and _sanity. _I'd felt like I'd fallen into the web of this island; and in plunging into the darkness of the unknown had lost the meat of my resolve.

And now, soaking wet, sitting against the wall of the cave as the fire lay dying, I felt a knot rise in my throat.

Lara, against all odds of physique, had killed the Russian. Lara had cut my bonds and sent me running past the flames.

But the floor had opened up beneath her, and she'd been swallowed by the burning floorboards as I'd offered her my hand, and I felt myself tumble through the floor as well.

We'd fallen into the depths of the island, somewhere beneath that temple-and now Lara's notion of being trapped here rang in my head.

I knew I needed to sleep, but could find no use in it. It was nearly impossible with all this water anyway.

So I found myself staring into the darkest of the room. Somehow, moonlight flitted in through the distant ceiling, permitting glinting water to offer a crude map of the surroundings. But one corner remained in darkness, and possibility swathed my mind.

_I couldn't let us fucking starve in here._

"Lara?" I tried. She was asleep-for the best. I drew breath into my chest and let it out slow. "I'm gonna go look around for something to eat. I'll be here. I'll be back in a sec."

I stood, looked longingly down at Lara's bloodied silhouette, and started toward the darkness.

_I'll be back in a sec. _

…

And stopped outside the dwindling jurisdiction of the fire's light as the crash of thunder shook the silence from the earth. Rain began to trickle through the cracks in the ceiling, and within moments the fire had hissed its death.

Lara stirred.

"Sam?" She half choked on my name. The desperation in her voice made me wither, but as she peeled her eyes open, only to close them to the falling rain, I knew I needed to go to her. Kneeling, I brushed sticky hair from her skin, cupping her face in my hand.

"Don't worry, sweetie-just a little thunder."

"Thunder?"

"Yeah, thunder."

Lara seemed to want to pursue the topic, but was startled by a flash of lightning. Her skin alight; alabaster. I was surprised at the coldness of her cheeks. Another bout of thunder bowed at the electric strings of the air.

Something fell-wood splintered somewhere across the room. I looked up for a split second as the lightning slashed the scene again, my gaze delving deeper into the rubble mound. I stood, feeling Lara's hand trail next to mine.

Not wanting to pull away.

Making my way toward the pile, I crouched in defense of the darkness, blinking water from my eyelashes.

Stumbling amongst the debris, another flash of lightening bathed the room in blue, and I saw it. _Lara's torch. _Scrambling over the rubble, I groped around in the darkness, balanced precariously on a beam of wood, advancing toward my goal.

With each flash I grew closer.

Something fell behind me and I started, whipping my head around. Clumps of rock and dirt were shaken loose from the ceiling, prompting me to hurry. I reached the torch and grabbed it without second thought.

It seemed the place was collapsing by the time I'd made it back to Lara, who was curled in the fetal position, protecting her eyes from the falling dirt and rock. In seconds I'd ripped the flint from my pocket, found the odd axe, and struggled to think of a way to light it with only two hands. I sat reluctantly on the floor and placed the torch between my legs-and in a few tries fire sparkled at the end.

"Lara, we gotta move!" I called, slipping my hand under her shoulders. She made effort to sit up, and I could see her weakness in the torchlight. Without a word, she got to her feet with my help-leaning heavily on me.

Our journey through the room was painfully slow. Lara's laboured breaths were felt in my ear and on my neck; little puffs of warmth that edged me forward. If not for me, then for _her_ I would save us.

Approaching the far end of the room, the torch staved the darkness, bathing the narrow opening within the rocks in yellow light. My arm felt like lead-Lara just seemed to get heavier and heavier, more and more sluggish as we pressed on.

We hadn't covered considerable distance.

More lightning.

More thunder.

More of Lara's breaths against my clavicle; the sting of her hand gripping my side.

We pushed on, propelled into darkness for no other reason than it being the only option for us. The ceiling was still caving-but that was behind us. In the narrower section we pressed through now, all seemed stable and well.

My heart was pounding in my chest.

This current illusion of safety prompted Lara to collapse, exhausted.

"Sam, I can't-"

"Come on!" I slipped my hand under her again, pulling against her dead weight, "The great Lara Croft, giving up _so _easily? Get up-It's not too far!" I half-lied, seeing no exit.

"Go, Sam." Something about her tone struck me-but I shook it off.

"Roth will save us. Roth-Roth, and Jonah, and Joslin, and-" I thought the name begrudgingly before I voiced it, "-And Alex. They'll come for us, Lara-but they'll never find us _here._ So just-"

"Sam." Lara repeated.

"I'm not leaving you here!" A knot rose in my throat again; I fought off tears.

How was she just-

_Giving up?_

My words were met with silence. And it was more than I could bear.

"Don't leave me," I crumpled next to her, careful not to drop the torch, "Don't you dare leave me, Lara Croft."

Her tired face was bathed in gold.


	4. Chapter 4: Ripples

_Chapter Four: Ripples_

Lara and I were the only people in the world, then - in that moment where the contrast between past and present had sharpened.

I'd realized that I couldn't wait for her to catch me.

That I couldn't let her fall-

That I'd never been more in love with her than I was in that moment, simply because she brought hope to my eyes. Before Yamatai, it was different. Sure, I'd felt my heart slip from the platonic more than a few times-but something within me told me that it was wrong for me to want her. Perhaps it was because, despite my outward confidence, I wasn't good enough for her.

Maybe it was just because she was a girl.

I was never sure.

But all my qualms were lost in that moment, with Lara's arms curled limply around my back as I tried to coax her off the floor, bathed in firelight.

The stigma of our pairing vanished for a second and I pulled myself close to her, her back arched under my arms, the pale and dirtied flesh of her neck exposed with her head tipped toward the ground.

Hair trailing against the dirt.

Lara's silence was a blatant cry for help, and I hugged her tightly, pulling her to my chest. My hands were knit tightly about her taut shoulderblades.

_I love you._

The words would be so easy to say-why were they stuck in my throat?

I cursed my weakness.

It was my weakness that had gotten us here-I had to convince myself of that. I couldn't blame Lara, and circumstance wasn't tangible enough-so I ended up blaming myself.

And it was enough drive for me to lift her off the ground.

I carried her some twenty yards down the tunnel. Faded white paint lined the walls.

Suns-suns and handprints, two opposite hands with their thumbs pressed together, forming birds.

The passage opened up into a room just after I left the final bits of torchlight and the air became smothered with the darkness.

A tree stood at the center. The room smelled of citrus and dust.

It was drier in here. An octagonal room stood, a huge copper bell hanging from the ceiling, overgrown with the gnarled tree. The walls were lined with rotting wood, peeling with red paint-the human presence in here was an immediate comfort. I set Lara down on an evenly tiled section of ground, taking great care not to jar her head against the ground. The shortness of her breath concerned me, but there was nothing I could do.

Lara's eyes were closed, her face stony and cold. My hand trailed on hers for a moment, my fingers weaving into hers.

I felt a knot in my throat.

"_I'll be back in a minute, okay sweetie?"_

I said, my voice choked, my palm lingering against her dirtied cheek as I stood.

Looking up at the tree, silhouetted in streaming moonlight, I was able to identify small, round objects. I approached it, my foot falling on something soft and spherical. It crushed under my weight: an orange.

_There was an orange tree growing in the middle of the room._

My first thought was one of food. My hands scrambled over the ground, and laughing with disbelief, coming across an orange that didn't seem too soft to eat. Pressing my thumb nail into the skin, I peeled it away, ripping the fruit into hemispheres before shoving a whole half into my mouth, biting down blissfully. The sensation of sweetness and citrus overcame me; I ate the other section before searching for another. It was not long before I came across it.

Tearing the flesh, the thought of Lara eclipsed my fated victory.

I was overcome with guilt. Picking up a few more oranges, I set them by her, but didn't want to wake her from her sleep.

Maybe to spare myself the pain.

I shoved another section of orange into my mouth, no longer savoring the flavor-just trying to satisfy my hunger.

Hearing water, I walked toward the source, finding an unused torch at a stand on the wall. I examined it - It seemed intact. I lit it with more skill than I had previously. The wooden handle seemed to fit in my palm.

My procession was weary, but only because of the threat of the unknown. The sound of water intensified, and I found a great fountain in a large, adjoining room.

Clear water poured, from two marble lion's mouths, into a great rectangular pool. The floor was tiled with stone. A number of storage implements stood in the corner. I approached it first.

The doors took some prying-but a cabinet was filled with a number of neatly labeled bottles - none of which I understood. A shallow porcelain bowl caught my attention-I reminded myself to take it with me, later.

I began uncorking and sniffing various liquids - some seemed like perfume. One of them smelled like alcohol. I took it.

"_Alcohol is used for cleaning wounds-right?"_

I asked myself, muttering affirmatively and hoping I was right. Next was a wardrobe. A lilac kimono, embroidered with tiny threads, was folded neatly in the drawer. I slipped it under my arm. Miraculously, the fabric hadn't been eaten by moths, and was extremely smooth to the touch.

I brought it back to Lara, setting the bottle gently on the ground, before making a trip back and filling the shallow porcelain bowl with cool water.

Kneeling by her side I cut a strip of the fabric. It was so easy for me to deface such a beautiful thing for the sake of personal interest. I blotted some of the alcohol to it before removing my folded jacket from Lara's side and pressing the drenched cloth to it. Lara stirred-it must've hurt. She was roused from her unconsciousness - a good sign - and cried out to me, her eyes full of pain. I slipped a new piece of cloth into her makeshift bandage before replacing it, stroking her cheek.

"_Lara-I got something for you,"_

I smiled, peeling an orange and removing a small section,

"_Open up."_

She looked at me, questioning.

"_Come on, Lara, just do it. Trust me."_

I smiled, becoming aware of my own sadness once again.

She opened her mouth and I slipped the fruit inside. She closed her lips around it, chewing slowly, her eyes slipping shut as well.

Lara grinned.

"_It's good,"_

She mumbled.

God, I fucking loved her accent.

I smiled as she opened her mouth for another piece. I gave her two more before I realized that I was still smiling contentedly, and wiped the grin from my face, embarrassed. Suddenly I found it hard to meet her eyes again.

I turned, picking up the shallow bowl in one hand, elevating Lara's head with the other. I raised the bowl to her lips, and she drank eagerly. A bit of water dripped onto her shirt. I set the bowl on the ground, still holding her head.

Before I knew it I'd kissed her long and hard.

She tasted like oranges.


	5. Chapter 5: Wind

_Chapter Five: Wind_

A thousand times before I had feared this fate.

It wasn't the failure of the expedition or the validation of fear - no.

Lara's silence was the punishment I'd feared I'd deserve.

She hadn't spoken about yesterday-and the closest she'd come to brushing on the kiss was thanking me for the oranges. Lara was doing surprisingly well - so much so that I had to deny her the right to make an attempt at walking.

Of course I was relieved.

I'd be sick not to be relieved.

But I was inundated by a gray brand of disappointment like I'd never felt before: she was denying me my right of presence, and therefore my right of peace.

Did I not _deserve_ Lara's acknowledgement as a human being with thoughts and feelings -

_Dare _I name it love?

Tearing myself up over it wouldn't help - but I couldn't let myself off easy. This whole thing became my fault, and 'rejection' was screaming at me. I couldn't blame Lara because, within me, I was the one at fault and I _needed_ to punish myself for it.

Sitting beside her as she slept was too much. I kept looking at her body and wanting it, so, so badly.

I stood. Made my way to the 'washroom,' where the stony lions spat their water into the clear bath. Looking at it, I realized the layer of sweat and dirt over my body, rubbing my grimy fingers together. I looked around pointlessly, as if stupidly expecting wraiths, before stripping and lowering myself into the frigid water.

The surface was wracked by the colliding ripples of my presence. I found my face in the water and stared at it, expecting, _hoping_ to find something different there than what I knew.

I looked the same as I always did.

I slipped into the water and waited for my body to get used to the cold.

A full state of consciousness eluded me. I found no pleasure in ridding myself of so many layers of dirt accumulated here on Yamatai. The journey into self loathing and insecurity was a slow descent of questions, which I found myself lost in as I pulled my sluggish form from the bath.

I couldn't face her.

Standing outside the bath, a wave of dizziness overcame me, the world swirling faster and faster, my vision spotting. I sat promptly against the wall, drips of water flung from me, speckling the floor with tiny spots of dark.

The room stopped spinning and all was left still and quiet and tranquil - so bitterly stagnant that it was detestable.

I couldn't stand up and face the light.

So I fell asleep there, wet and cold, on the floor.

I was just so tired.

_When I'm in a dream, there are no faces; there are no ceilings. These things seem trivial to me, so common that their presence is insignificant. _

_When it comes to ceilings, I like to think poetically: there are no ceilings because dreams are limitless. Even though I never incline my head to acknowledge the sky, the lack of grounded presence is apparent when I wake. _

_And so, this limitless realm within my dream was filled with wind. _

_Wind-Wind and fire. The noise was overwhelming. It was only the noise. If there were sights, I couldn't recall them when I woke. _

_Choking on something, I could breathe, but felt omniscience shoving its way down my throat-a wave of space pushing into me, surrounding and compressing me-so that my feet rose from the ground. _

_Someone was speaking to me-a well annunciated chant; a woman's voice-I couldn't tell what she was saying. _

_The next thing I remember I was in someone's arms. Immediately and without second thought I knew it was Lara. _

_I fit perfectly, there. _

_I looked up at her, seeing only the underside of her taut jaw. She looked down at me and light eclipsed her features. _

"_Sam." She said. _

_I said something I couldn't remember. Her unseen expression took on a different light; some cloud ploding in front of the mood's sun, _

"_Sam." Her voice was brimming with urgency. I felt the speed of her step jostle me, feeling too weak to move. _

"_Sam!" _

_She slapped me. _

"Huh!?" Sitting up quickly, my breath came out in one short burst. Lara backed up from her squatting position before me and fell backwards onto her butt. She held her side and groaned into her knees.

"I-Shit, I'm so sorry-are you okay!?" I moved toward her and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. My worry prompted me to forget about 'the kiss.'

_As well as my nudity. _

I froze. A blush heated my face as my stomach flipped within me.

To my surprise, Lara blushed too: a subtle and delicate distinction; a rose beneath the dirt.

_God, she made me crazy._

An eternity passed between us: me, kneeling, my hand quivering awkwardly just above Lara's right shoulder; her, with her legs stretched out before her, eyes drilling so painfully into me with _such_ little effort. We were roommates. Of course we'd seen each other naked, It just…was always a purely platonic moment. Eyes never wandered.

Her laughter signaled her forgiveness-there hadn't been laughter, not since Yamatai.

I covered myself, blushing madly, and stretching across the floor to grab for my clothes. I slipped my damp and dirtied shirt on first, pulling it quickly over my torso. I grinned. My reaction would make or break this, and I knew that. I couldn't make it awkward. She was showing me forgiveness; opening the blinds to let in light. And I'd be stupid to reject such an open armistice.

"Why'd you slap me?" I asked her, humor brimming from my mouth as the corners tugged toward the hidden sky.

"You were saying something; you started moving-I was worried when you wouldn't wake up. What were you dreaming?"

"Oh," I answered dumbly, hastily adding/diverting, "How did you get in here? I mean-you know-" I was tripping over my words and it was downright embarrassing. If she couldn't guess how I felt about her before, she'd know now. Lara knew me. Knew that I didn't skip like a broken record.

"I walked," She stated simply.

"You're feeling okay?"

"That's not the best word for it-but yes, depending on your standards for 'okay.' But I'm here. And thanks for that, Sam."

Her statement had the blood return to my cheeks as I bit back a smile. _I'd _saved her. _Me. Sam. I _saved _the_ Lara Croft.

I'd saved the life of my best friend, and that was the greatest thing to know.

"I just had to give your sorry ass some motivation-the rest was you." Humility was warranted when responding to such a deeply significant compliment.

"Give yourself some credit, Sam." Lara grinned. My heart brimmed with pride. "Anyway-what did you dream about?"

Her question tripped me up, some. I couldn't just tell her I'd dreamed about her, could I?

"I can't remember."

"You don't?"

"No," I lied, "But there was a lot of wind. What did I say?" Despite my genuine interest in my unconscious babble, I wanted desperately to digress from the subject of my dream.

"You were just apologizing a lot, I think. And 'thank you.' Over and over again."

"Really?" I asked and lowered my brow, trying to pin meaning to my words,

"Yeah." She said and moved her gaze to the wall.

"That's weird. You sure it wasn't Himiko speaking in here, Lara, baby? Or do you still have a fever?" She laughed me off; her sudden disinterest in me was apparent. Her gaze shifted quickly back to the wall behind the bath.

A huge, extravagant tapestry hung above the stone lion's manes, details fraying with age. Looking to Lara I found her struggling to stand. I stood first and offered her my arm-the jolt of contact rushing through me, muscles tensed for a fraction of a moment.

I told myself not to let it get to me.

Lara, leaning heavily against my shoulder, coaxed me toward the bath. We neared the tapestry. Lara marveled at the thing as the room fell into minutes of silence.

My shoulder started to ache.

"This is a...ritual bathhouse, for lack of a better word." Lara said, mostly to herself.

_Let me first say how sorry I am that it took me soooo long to update this-and even between vacation, computer issues, school, and pure laziness, it's ridiculous that it took me this long to get the chapter up. Thank you all so much for reading. Your reviews make my day. Without them, I'd probably have ditched this story three chapters ago. So thank you. It means the world. _

_I'd also like to say that I'm looking for someone to edit for me-you know, proofread for stupid mistakes, suggestions, tell me about clarity and stuff. You know. So if someone has a drive account and would be willing to spend the time, I'd absolutely love it. PM me if you're interested? :3_


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